Eventually, even the luckiest of people have a run of bad luck. Erin Smith's came a few weeks back.
But how she handled it says a lot about the lady.
The misfortune came in quick bursts, like a short, intense summer thunderstorm.
First, a sudden stiff breeze swept up, rustling her finances.
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An unexplained $250 bill appeared on her bank statement from a grocery store 50 miles away from her home in Concord's Sheffield Manor.
The thunderclap didn't sound until later that morning, when her husband, Jay, crashed his silver Miata into a dump truck stopped at a traffic light.
By evening, the strength of the storm proved relentless, and the full force of the torrent began.
That night, her daughter's gleeful squeals on a neighbor's trampoline turned to cries as another child landed on her leg, causing a fracture.
A downpour of tears drenched the tissues Smith dabbed on her 4-year-old's face.
Then, like it began, the trouncing ended with one final financial gust, delivered by her credit card company, checking on a few suspicious online music charges.
Folks around Erin Smith watched her reaction to the rumblings like they were gathered around the television awaiting the new episode after a last season cliffhanger.
Like it or not, fair or unfair, being a minister's wife holds a person under closer scrutiny. Erin's husband, Jay, is the pastor at Poplar Tent Presbyterian Church in Concord.
Would she look toward the Heavens, asking why, and shaking her fists? Or would she slink back to the shelter of her bed covers?
She chuckles at both options. Neither has ever really been her style.
"That's when I have to do a lot of extra prayer," said the 35-year-old mother of three.
When the storm had run its course and the damage surveyed, Smith did what came naturally.
She simply carried on, clearing up the accounts, having the car repaired, and continuing her errands as usual.
Except now, she walks a little slower, so Jordan, sporting a thigh-high purple cast and miniature crutches, can keep up.
"You can't take it so seriously," said Smith of the week's mishaps.
That attitude has served her well before.
Ten years ago, she stared through an open stained-glass window down into the courtyard of an elegant mansion on the east side of Pittsburgh.
Her view was blurred by tears as she watched the soaking rain pour down on her wedding day.
Even then, she decided to carry on as planned.
"'Wipe off the chairs,' I said. 'This is why I came here.'"
If Smith had a soundtrack to her life, it would have to be carefree and easygoing, one to match her personality, with an occasional plucky string section to represent her upbeat demeanor and optimism.
Instead, sitting in her living room, with her 1-year-old daughter, Julia, asleep on her lap, a Barney CD knocks out continuous childhood standards.
"You have to be able to be light-hearted."